The Insomniac's Blade
by SometimeSelkie
Summary: Ginny certainly didn’t expect to spend her first peacetime New Year’s helping a questionable ally through substance withdrawl. PostHBP.
1. A Long December

A/N: This ficlet follows the events of my post-HBP continuum I refer to as the Trickverse. "The Insomniac's Blade" takes place a week after the events of "Comfort and Joy", and the Second War has ended halfway through what would have been Draco's seventh year of schooling. It should run for four or five chapters.

Standard disclaimers apply.

**Chapter One: A Long December**

Lee Jordan seated his hat on his head and put one gloved hand on the back door of the Burrow. "Well, let him know that if he changes his mind, he's welcome to join us at the Dragon's Claw."

"Of course," Ginny murmured. "Thank you so much for coming, Lee. I think George really appreciates it, even if he doesn't show it right now."

Lee smiled gamely as he opened the door. "I hope he comes back to us soon. We miss him. We miss them both." The fresh snow squeaked under his boot. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year," Ginny echoed, closing the door behind him.

"It was so nice of him to come," Molly said from the table. "I do wish George would've gone with him. He could use some fun."

_We all could_, Ginny added mentally as she surveyed her houserobe-clad mother and the way the older woman was hunched over the cup of tea Ginny had brewed her. She could hear quiet, solemn voices wafting from the living room.

There was a knock on the door. Ginny rushed forward to open it, her eyes already darting around for the scarf or other object Lee must've left behind, but the small smirk that was growing on her face died when she revealed Hermione Granger on the doorstep. "Happy New Year, Ginny," Hermione said brightly, but the look on her face said another thing altogether. _Yes, I'm back again_, the hardness around her eyes said, _and no, I'm not interested in debating it, so don't bother asking me to go away_, the thrust of her jaw added as the girl stepped into the kitchen uninvited and began to take her boots off.

"Hermione," Ginny greeted dully. "Happy New Year." She had vainly hoped that Hermione would give poor Ron a break tonight. She would've been doing a favour to the entire family by staying home, really. Their rows were so loud that they disrupted the entire household. She couldn't understand why Hermione would choose _now _to visit every day after Ron had spent the last six months hating her, but figured it had something to do with the loss of her brother's wand arm in the final battle. No wonder Ron was so angry to see her; Ginny would be angry too if an enemy kept dropping in to pity her, doubly so if she was unable to hex them in response.

"Happy New Year, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione sang out as she breezed through the kitchen. She didn't need to ask where Ron was. He was always in his room.

Hope sparked in Molly's eyes. "Hello, Hermione dear," she answered, sounding much more animated than she had a moment ago.

Ginny was about to move away from the door when there was a further knock on the door, very light. She opened the door once again to reveal a handsome eagle owl with a small letter in its beak. It dropped the letter at her feet and took flight abruptly. She picked the envelope up gingerly (it had fallen in some melting snow), found it was addressed to her, and tore it open.

_Dear Ginny,_ the letter read in an unfamiliar hand that was sprawling and angular,

_I regret that our last meeting did not end well and hope that this letter finds you in better spirits._

Confused, Ginny skipped to the bottom of the letter and found that the signature was obscured by an oversized D and M. At the sight of it, her heart leapt into her throat and she darted a surreptitious glance over her shoulder to ensure that her mother had turned her attention back to her novel and tea. Ginny shoved the letter and envelope into her pocket and strolled out of the kitchen into the living room, where Arthur was talking with Bill and Charlie over Butterbeers, and George and Percy were playing a halfhearted game of Gobstones. Percy was squirted right between the eyes and he chortled, glancing over at George. George smiled weakly, trying to appease him. It was a heart-wrenching sight. "Does anyone need more to drink?" she asked, more loudly than necessary so that her voice would remain even. Everyone shook their head, taking minimal notice of her. That probably meant her cheeks weren't flaming. That was something, at least.

"Do you want to play Gobstones, Ginny?" George asked, shifting position. Beside him, Percy deflated a bit.

"Maybe next game," she replied hurriedly before George could get up. "I'll be back in a bit." She skipped lightly up the stairs and only realised as she passed Ron's room that she couldn't hear any shouting. Maybe one of them had finally thought to cast a Silencing Charm. Once safe in her room, she let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding and dug into her pocket for the letter, not sure if she wanted to continue reading it. His mere mention of Christmas had inflamed her. Steeling herself, she smoothed out the letter and read on.

_I would still like to buy you a new wand, so please let me know when you are available to go shopping._ She had to admit that whatever she thought of him right now, she was eager to rid herself of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand. Sometimes she thought it had absorbed some of the Death Eater's malevolent personality.

_I have a small favour to ask of you. Pansy Parkinson has been at my house for three days now, and she refuses to leave until another guest arrives at the Manor. I know this sounds bizarre, but I would be indebted to you if you could come to my house as soon as you can and stay until Pansy takes her leave. Neither of us has slept in days, and I fear that I might kill her if she stays much longer, much as I don't fancy returning to Azkaban._

_She's coming back, I have to go. Please consider._

_Yours &c,_

_Draco Malfoy_

Ginny raised an eyebrow in disbelief. She wasn't sure what kind of game he was playing, making as if he were a prisoner in his own home. Perhaps it was a mentality he hadn't quite shaken yet, even though he had probably been released for a month now. Besides, he was mad to think she'd ever willingly be under the same roof as Pansy Parkinson and she certainly didn't want to see _him_! It was something she'd tried to put out of her mind, her inane impulse to deliver Christmas treats to his house, hoping for…well, she wasn't even sure what. Boredom at home had been her main motivator, mixed in with pity that he was all alone for Christmas. And then the embarrassment of finding out he'd already gone to bed, and realising that he wouldn't want her charity in any case! It had only gotten worse from there when he'd come down and fussed over her, as if she needed to be taken care of, and made the grand gesture of offering to buy her a new wand. It had been a stark contrast to life at home, where she was an integral cog of the machine but by no means celebrated. Then she'd realised that Draco was showing her more care than Harry ever had, even under the Amortentia, and he'd made a bitter remark about having no friends left at Hogwarts that jolted her as it had been a while since the two of them had been true enemies.

And then he'd kissed her, just a peck on the cheek, he'd meant nothing by it, but – oh, she was so _stupid_! – in that moment of emotional vulnerability, she just hadn't been able to let it go. He'd mortified her for it, too, making sure to turn the whole thing back on her. After the debacle that was her crush on Harry, she'd made a solemn vow to herself never to put herself out there for that sort of ridicule again. A fat lot of good it had done!

Ugh, she _knew_ she shouldn't have started thinking about it again! But now she had a perverse desire to Floo over to Malfoy Manor, to prove that nothing was out of order. She'd just been in a strange frame of mind, that's all, stressed out over the holiday, and for a moment she'd thought he was…someone else. Yes, she'd go. She wouldn't be gone long. Besides, it wasn't like there was much to do here besides wait for Ron and Hermione to take their row public or force George to play more Gobstones.

Naturally, it wouldn't do to run down to the living room and yell "Malfoy Manor!" in front of her family. Ginny pretended to retire early in sympathy with George and then had to bide her time with a book until everyone else followed suit, tired of pretending at revelry. Hermione must have left without incident at some point. During the wait Ginny vacillated between answering Draco's summons or slipping into bed and forgetting about the whole thing. Finally, the Burrow was as quiet as it ever got and Ginny crept down the stairs and across the living room to where the fire was beginning to wane. She tossed in some Floo Powder, stepped into the emerald flames, and cried, "Malfoy Manor!" before she had a chance to re-evaluate her decision yet again.


	2. Pas de Trois

**Chapter Two: Pas de Trois**

Déjà vu swept over Ginny as the emerged in the Malfoys' opulent receiving salon. Before she had a chance to absorb the Louis XV furniture and heavy brocade curtains, the same house-elf that had prevented her retreat on Christmas Day poked her head in the doorway; when she caught sight of Ginny, her ears flapped energetically. "Miss!" she cried. "You must come with me, please!"

The creature seemed unusually agitated. Something felt wrong. As Ginny darted into the hallway and up the stairs after the elf, a shriek reverberated through the house. "…NOT SLEEP with you…!" a female cried.

The house-elf cringed noticeably but barreled onwards. "You is here!" she said unnecessarily. "Master will be pleased!" Her maniacal tone did little to cover a second voice.

"…said…helpful!"

"…not what I…"

"Just forget it, Pansy, okay?" By now, Ginny and the house-elf were outside the door all the commotion was coming from.

"A moment," the house elf chirped to Ginny, and threw the door open with impunity. Ginny froze in horror a few paces back, not wanting to look like she was a voyeur unto the tableau playing out before her.

Draco was dwarfed in a large four-poster bed, seated like a disgruntled despot king with covers over his lap. He looked exceptionally haggard, similar to how he had been in Azkaban, except he was wearing decadent satin pyjamas instead of rags. Pansy Parkinson stood beside the bed with her back mostly to Ginny, one hand on her hip. Her robes were rumpled-looking, a departure from how Ginny usually saw her. Typically, Parkinson's school robes were immaculate and somehow much more flattering than Ginny's identical set. "You know, your attitude isn't helping matters," she snapped to Draco.

The house-elf caught Draco's eye and his gaze moved past her to where Ginny was cringing in the shadows. His features immediately rearranged from a haughty and annoyed expression to something more indicative of a quiet and desperate hope.

Parkinson let out an exasperated sigh. "And if you think ignoring me's going to…." Her voice died as she cast a glance over her shoulder and saw what Draco was looking at. "Widow Potter?" she blurted, too dumbfounded to even reach for her wand. "What are you doing here?" When Ginny didn't volunteer an answer, she looked back to Draco for an explanation.

Triumph was written into his smug smile. "You can go now, Pansy."

"And house-elves have wings," she snorted derisively, turning on Ginny. "Get lost, Widow Potter. I don't know why you're here, but you're not wanted."

"See here, Puggy," Ginny started, bristling, "I don't _care-_"

"Oh, but she is," Draco interjected smoothly. "She's here to relieve you. And I'd prefer it if my guests didn't refer to each other by vile names."

Truly confused now, Parkinson was doing her best to keep both Draco and Ginny in her sights. "You can't be serious."

"You need to get some rest, Pansy. It's for the best."

The prospect of sleep gave Parkinson pause; Ginny could see the dark circles under the other girl's eyes. Perhaps Draco hadn't been exaggerating when he said neither of them had slept for days. Finally, she stalked up to Ginny. "I don't know what you're playing at here, Widow Potter," she growled under her breath, "but if you undo my work here, I'll hunt you down and make you _very_ sorry, understand?"

"What are you talking about?" Ginny snapped, sure now that Draco had left out a vital piece of information in his letter.

Parkinson ignored the question. "Now, I've been casting Cheering Charms on him if he starts getting restless-"

"Yeah, and I've_told _you to stop it!" Draco cried from the bed. "It's terrible to watch what happens!"

"-and waking him if he gets too violent. But under no circumstances should he be allowed to take it, not even a bit. I've got some Calming Draughts over here though." Parkinson latched onto Ginny's shoulder, dragged her over to Draco's bed, and opened a small cabinet on the nightstand. "These over here. Not these. Do you understand?"

Ginny didn't understand at all, but Draco was behind Parkinson, miming violently that she should agree. She jerked her head in a little nod.

Parkinson appraised her sceptically and shrugged to herself when Ginny didn't waver under her examination. "I suppose I'll see you later, then," she said to Draco.

"Thanks for coming, Pansy," he said. She bent over him and they kissed each other on the cheek, reminding Ginny of his claim that he did that to everyone. Yeah, she had definitely overreacted on Christmas. "Well, I do," Draco said as Parkinson pulled back; she had obviously whispered something to him.

She paused in the doorway and tossed a twisted smile his way. "Have a good sleep," she said. They both chuckled darkly as she disappeared.

Once the door closed, Draco grinned as if he'd just heard a wonderful joke. "You were brilliant, Ginny."

"What the hell just happened in here?" she demanded.

Draco waved his hand airily. "Oh, she's just overprotective. I thought you weren't going to make it! Do you have anything pressing to do, or would you like to stay for a cup of tea?"

"Malfoy, you look like death warmed over," Ginny said bluntly. "You sent me a bizarre letter asking me to save you from Parkinson's evil clutches, and now you want to have a spot of tea? I don't think so. Explain what she was raving about," a sudden flash of inspiration hit her, "or I'm leaving right this second."

It was a ludicrous threat, or would have been if Draco didn't display the strange mental pathologies that he did. Ginny wasn't sure why, but he seemed to have become fixated on her after his mother's death. Part of her thought he had transferred his affection for Narcissa Malfoy to her, and part of her thought that he had simply become more human after the tragedy and Ginny was the first person he'd been able to demonstrate his newfound compassion on (if 'compassion' was the correct term for 'tackling someone viciously while they slept and insisting they leave the house so Death Eaters don't get them'). Whatever the case, he was happy when she visited him and agitated when she left unless she promised to return. The gambit paid off and Draco looked suitably chastened. "It's – it's really stupid, Ginny. She just thought I needed taking care of, it being the hols and all, and can't stand it if I have bad dreams, so she's constantly waking me up and neither of us get any sleep."

"'Bad dreams'? How would she even know?"

"What, are you an Auror now?" he sneered, making an obvious effort to lighten his delivery after the fact.

"Defensive, are we?"

"I didn't mean it like that. I'm just really tired."

"So sleep, then. Parkinson's gone."

"I suppose I will," Draco answered, looking very ill at ease.

"Okay, then," Ginny said, her eyes narrowed with general suspicion. "I'll leave you to it."

"I'll see you out," Draco offered, throwing off his covers.

"No need," she said, but not before his feet had already hit the floor.

"Are you sure?"

"Very. Get some sleep. You need it."

Draco settled reluctantly back onto the pillows. "I'm glad you came, Ginny," he said softly.

"I'll bet you are," Ginny replied. She remembered, with a bit of apprehension, how he and Parkinson had kissed each other and turned away more quickly than necessary. "I'll owl you," she called over her shoulder.

Before she could make it to the staircase, she was accosted by the house-elf, who now looked menacing instead of friendly. "Miss is leaving?" the small creature growled, blocking Ginny's way. "Miss must not leave Master Draco alone."

"Out of my way," Ginny snapped.

"After Miss Pansy puts her faith in Miss! Hibby cannot let Miss go! She must protect Master Draco!"

"He'll be fine," she said shortly, trying to edge past the house-elf with no success.

"Master Draco has much trouble, Miss!" Hibby cried, grabbing hold of Ginny's hem. "Is very sick and Hibby cannot help him, she must do as he says! He-" Hibby's entire body became rigid and she eyed the nearest baluster with apprehension. "He fears his nightmares!" she squeaked in a single rapid breath, then threw herself headfirst against the hardwood. "He-cannot-sleep!" she said, each word punctuated by another self-inflicted blow.

"Hibby," Ginny said hesitantly, and the house-elf turned to her, its eyes disturbingly unfocused. "There's nothing I can do."

"Miss can stay with him. Miss can keep him from Dreamless Sleep. He must not start again, he is nearly finished!"

_Dreamless Sleep._ Ginny subconsciously took a tiny step backwards. She hadn't been allowed to take it for more than a couple of days after emerging from the Chamber of Secrets. Madam Pomfrey was quite adamant that even if the dreams were upsetting, she needed to dream to heal and couldn't run from nightmares forever or they'd keep piling up. Ginny wondered how long Draco had been taking it, how many nightmares that were currently stockpiled in his mind and scrabbling for release. From what Trelawney had said in Divination, recovery from extended Dreamless Sleep use was psychic agony. "That's why Parkinson wouldn't leave, isn't it?" Ginny asked. It explained everything from the Cheering Charms to the other girl's lack of sleep.

"Yes, Miss!" Hibby's ears flew like standards with her vigorous nodding before she hit her head against the banister again.

"My name's Ginny," she added absently.

"Hibby knows," Hibby said with a hint of defiance. "Hibby cannot allow Miss to go."

Ginny was not about to sit and squabble with a house-elf. She turned on her heel and strode purposefully back towards Draco's chamber. Hibby helpfully opened the correct door (the dratted things all looked the same) and lit the room with a snap of her fingers. Draco sat up sluggishly and squinted. "Ginny?"

"How bad is your withdrawl?" Ginny asked without preamble.

Draco turned a furious eye on Hibby. "Outside!" he thundered. The house-elf's ears drooped in a resigned fashion and she vanished. The look he gave Ginny was only slightly less hate-filled. "I'm working through it."

"Your dreams are bad enough that you thrash about in your sleep."

"So what?"

"You're afraid to sleep alone."

"AND WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO ABOUT IT?" Draco bellowed.

"Ask for help!" she shouted back.

"Why do you think Pansy was here?"

"Ask _me_!"

"I don't need your pity!"

"It's not pity! You keep saying I'm your friend. Plus, you saved my life. I kind of owe you."

"I didn't," he said petulantly, looking almost the same as when Ginny had first seen into the room.

Ginny sighed. "Look, I'll make this easy on you: Draco, would you like me to stay? I could." This was the sort of thing no one should have to go through alone, Malfoys included.

He was still sulky. "Fine, if you insist."

"Oh, stop. Your displays of gratitude are embarrassing me."

"I _am_ grateful," he said gruffly, grabbing his wand and levitating a winged armchair over to beside the bed. "I just – I'm really tired."

"I never knew," Ginny said dryly, taking her seat.

Draco sunk into his pillows and extinguished the lights save one small votive. "I'm glad you're here," he admitted, lying on his side so he could face her. "I didn't want you to go."

_You never want me to go_. "You should've said something."

He sighed, nestling under the covers. "You don't need this kind of rubbish."

"No one does."

"I would've been okay by myself."

"I know."

"It's been so long," he mumbled, his words beginning to slur together. "I don't even know sometimes, but I still remember you. Ne'er enough…." His breathing relaxed and he fell silent.

He was definitely unconscious. It was probably a record, and Charlie was well-known for being able to sleep at the drop of a hat. Ginny leaned her head against the wing of the chair and observed him for signs of strife, but his brow remained unfurrowed and he was the very image of repose. She used to watch Harry like this when he fell asleep in the middle of lakeside study sessions in that golden time at the end of fifth year. Sure, she'd known even then about Hermione's helping hand, but she'd been so happy, and Harry so content even without additional doses of Amortentia, that she'd been able to push any lingering guilt almost completely out of her mind. It had fallen apart with alacrity: first Dumbledore's death and Harry dumping her, then Hermione's confession at Bill and Fleur's wedding which was supposed to make Harry feel better but instead drove him to rage and splintered the Weasley family when they learned of the deception. Now the wizarding world was safe and Harry was in the long-term spell damage wing of St. Mungo's, unable to remember magic and mistrustful of anyone who tried to jog his memory. She had stopped trying to visit him after two weeks, but Molly persisted and was miserable for it. Ginny found life easier if she tried not to think about Harry. She found life easier if she tried not to think about a lot of things these days.


	3. A DecemberBlack Psalm

**Chapter Three: A December-Black Psalm**

Ginny was startled by a scream and found herself in unfamiliar surroundings. "Tom?" she whispered fearfully, reaching for her wand. Heavy breathing was her only answer. She felt very cold. "_Lumos_." Her disorientation evaporated. Draco was bolt upright in bed with his face buried in his biceps, his arms thrown so far over his head that he was clawing at the nape of his own neck. Ginny whispered his name and his arms convulsed around his skull, his breathing becoming even deeper. "You're hyperventilating," she said brusquely, recognizing the signs from her histrionic dormmate at Hogwarts. When he didn't respond, she urged her stiff muscles to action and retrieved one of the Calming Draughts Parkinson had left behind. "Drink this." Years of living in the same room as Andrea Sandmeyer were finally paying off; Ginny was practically on auto-pilot. She prodded Draco's exposed tricep with the bottle and he released his head. His eyes were red-rimmed and there were telltale dark spots on the sleeves of his satin pyjamas. He snatched the phial from her, drained it, and slumped back against the pillows, his breathing evening out. Pain was still radiating from him, though, and when he'd recovered enough to turn to her, his eyes were wide and beseeching. "Better?" she asked.

"He made me watch," Draco whispered hoarsely, his words strangely detached now that he was under the influence of the draught. "I'll never forget what he let them do. It'll never be better."

Not sure what to do, Ginny reached out and touched his shoulder gently. He leaned into the contact with a high-pitched whine from the back of his throat. The sound was singularly pathetic, and Ginny sat on the edge of the bed and slid her arm around his thin shoulders. Before she knew it, she was pushing his white-blond hair away from his forehead while he clung to her, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. "You're doing so well," she whispered to him, trying to ignore the way her spine was starting to cramp up again. "You must've been asleep for a couple of hours."

"I can't do this," he choked, plucking listlessly at the covers.

She squeezed his shoulder. "You're already doing it."

"I didn't know you were going to stay."

"I wasn't going to. I fell asleep in the chair."

The translucent tips of his eyelashes drew her attention as he blinked sleepily, almost childlike. "Can you stay again?"

Ginny glanced around for the time and her eyes finally alighted on a grandfather clock, its face barely readable in the dim light emitted by her wand. It was 1:30 a.m. "Happy New Year," she muttered.

"What?"

"It's 1998," she said, attempting to disentangle herself from him. Happy New Year."

"Oh," he said, clutching at her more tightly. "Don't go."

"You have to let me go," Ginny grunted, prising his hands off her. "You're hurting my back."

"Didn't mean to." He released her, reluctance lacing his movements.

Now that she was free, she realised how heavenly his bed felt under her numb arse. "Malfoy, I don't know how to ask this without it being awkward, but if I stay, would you mind if I was on your bed?"

His expression had already been gentle; at this, it deepened into something Ginny was hard-pressed to define. He began tugging vainly at the covers, trying to open them to her. Abruptly, she remembered the argument between Draco and Parkinson that she'd overheard and was suddenly filled with revulsion. "That's okay," she said quickly, stretching out on the edge of the bed. "This is fine."

He was beginning to look very drowsy. "You sure?"

"Yeah. Put out my wand, will you?"

Rolling over seemed to be a great ordeal for him. "_Nox_." The bed trembled beneath her. "How d'you stand it?" he asked quietly, and she realised that the tremor had been him shuddering. It looked like he was facing her again.

"What, the wand? Believe it or not, it's still better than my old one. Certainly keeps me on my toes, though. Sometimes it's like I could just let power flow through me with it, but I know it would be wrong, so I have to harness it."

"Beautiful and cruel," he murmured. "Like her."

"I guess. Anyways, sometimes you just have to take the bad with the good."

There was pressure on the inside of her wrist, which was upturned on the mattress. Long, warm fingers flowed up her palm and intercalated between her own. "No. You'll get a new one."

It was an oddly protective gesture, Ginny thought, coming from someone who needed a sentry to keep the bogeyman away. His hand was heavy on top of hers now, and in the dim light she could make out his closed eyes, his smooth brow, and his crooked nose that he still hadn't bothered to fix after his father broke it in Azkaban.

Why did she continue to answer his summons? Why was she here at all? If she were to be boldly honest, she would say for her own ego's sake. These days, Draco Malfoy was the only person who paid her much attention at all. It was like having a pet that's always grateful to see you. She also worried for him, bizarre as that sounded. He had changed drastically from when she knew him at school. He seemed almost fragile, and a bit gentler for not having cronies around him at all times. Well, he was associating with Parkinson now; it was only a matter of time, she supposed, and soon he'd be back in contact with whatever friends who managed to crawl out from under their rocks while avoiding Ministry persecution. Then, in the fall, he'd cobble together a new posse in Durmstrang. Would he revert to his spoiled Malfoy self at that point, or was this current incarnation what he had truly become? When Ginny was younger, she'd felt that adults were constant and unchanging. Percy was certainly different now than when he was Draco's age, but she couldn't be sure how much of the haughtiness and pomposity had been his and how much of it had been overplayed to strategically distance himself from his family as a double agent. George and Ron had changed, drastically, but they'd suffered traumatic experiences and she kept hoping they'd snap out of it. Then again, wasn't her presence in this house proof that Draco had been traumatized too? It was strange. She almost felt motherly towards him sometimes, sorry for his hardships despite the awfulness he'd displayed towards her until recently. All the same, it was definitely no boy's hand covering hers, and she took care not to dislodge it as she stretched her free arm over the edge of the mattress and grasped the trailing edge of the blankets. He made a small sound as she drew the blankets over herself and she stilled, trying to make out whether he was dreaming. She couldn't tell. When she listened more closely, all she could hear was the ticking of the grandfather clock and the gentle tapping of branches against the large paneled windows dominating the wall.


	4. Blown Wide Open

A/N: I wrote this and it came out all wrong, so I had to scrap it and re-write. I'm still not very happy with it, but the show, as they say, must go on.

**Chapter Four: Blown Wide Open**

Ginny was awoken this time by a lazy slap to the face. Her hand went up to snatch at the weapon and closed on Draco's wrist. He was writhing under the covers, arching his back and growling faintly. Well, he was either having a bad dream or a really, _really_ good one. The smirk eventually faded from Ginny's face as she considered what to do. She didn't want to wake him, since he needed all the sleep he could get. A Cheering Charm appeared to be out of the question – he'd yelled at Parkinson for doing it. Was it possible to feed someone a potion while they were asleep? She still had some Calming Draughts. Did she know of any calming charms? None came to mind.

Maybe, if she was careful, she could soothe him herself. She propped herself up on an elbow and laid her fingertips on his shoulder tentatively. "Draco?" she whispered, to no effect. "It's okay-"

The bedsprings creaked and the bones in her wrist popped as he wrenched them. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Ginny leaned over him and found his eyes wide open and his face contorted in a snarl. It was unnerving, to say the least, but she willed herself to be calm until he snapped out of it and recognized her.

It never happened. "Get out," he rasped.

"It's me, Ginny!"

"Get _out_!" he repeated, flinging her arm off his person. There was a blur of movement and, before her mind caught up to what he was doing, she landed most ungracefully on her arse on the parquet. A small object clattered up to her fingers. He'd thrown her wand at her.

"I-I don't understand-" she stammered, lighting the room.

"You sold me to Azkaban!" he screeched as she clambered to her feet. "You betrayed me!"

All of the concern that had been flowing through her body retreated into a small, hard ball and sunk deep into her stomach. "Are you still mad about that?" she asked, uncertain where this mounting feeling of dread came from. She certainly wasn't sorry for letting him continue on to an Order trap six months ago after he'd broken into her house and started raving that the Death Eaters were coming to get her. Besides, he'd been in and out of Azkaban already; it was practically ancient history. Now was an odd time to take up a vendetta.

He was gobsmacked. "You just admit it like that?"

"It's not exactly a secret." Indeed, how could he have forgotten?

It was a wonder that Draco's head didn't explode. "You…I can't….Bitch!" he spluttered from the bed, incoherent with rage.

"Step off it," Ginny snapped, irritated at his theatrics. "You already took it out on me by blackmailing me to visit you, remember? We're even."

"You filthy traitor. You've been _pretending_ to be my friend this entire time. I risked my life to warn you of that Death Eater attack. I gave you my wand. You visited me in Azkaban. I saved your life on the battlefield, and you got me off of it before I died. You cried on me about your dead brother and you visited me in the hospital wing. You brought me fucking _Christmas pastries_ last week and now I'm supposed to be okay with the little fact that you sent me packing to prison and would've let me rot there?"

"You think you're some sort of noble victim here?" she retorted. "_You_ broke into my house, _you_ threatened me, _you _were guilty of so many crimes that one more hardly made a difference, _you _blackmailed me at your own trial and then even when I complied with your ridiculous requests, _you_ reneged and _you_ betrayed _me_." She was shouting by the time she reached the end of her diatribe. "We're not friends, Malfoy." The dreadful ball in her stomach had begun to grind back and forth and it hurt, unexpectedly so. "All there is between us is duplicity and betrayal," she added, knowing it was at least a half-lie.

"Okay, Weasley, I get it. You hate me. So answer me this," he demanded, glaring balefully, "why the hell are you here? Are you after my money? Do you want to buy your way out of your tainted family?" The ball burst into flames and ground on mercilessly.

"I love my family!" she shouted. "They're not perfect but I love them, and you tried to throw Percy to the Aurors!"

"He turned out fine, didn't he?"

"Yeah, no thanks to you, and Snape ended up dead! How dare you sit here and rant at me for letting you walk into that trap when you betrayed people in the same way!"

"It was different. I had to get out of Azkaban. _You_ put me there for no apparent reason."

"You're a criminal! You were the enemy!"

There was a look of supreme disgust on his face. "I thought I told you to get out of my house."

"Sweet weeping Merlin, Malfoy, I have _had_ it with you!" she cried furiously, taking a step forward.

"HIBBY!" he screamed, and she popped into existence before them. The wretched creature was trembling uncontrollably and there was an icicle hanging from the end of her long nose. "Get this trash out of my house," he snarled, gesturing at Ginny.

"You're really pathetic, you know that, Malfoy?" she sneered as she backed away, striking out blindly now in a haze of anger. "I know you've always hidden behind goons but seriously, a house-elf?" He seized a rectangular object from the nightstand and flung it. The resulting crash of broken glass against the wall near Ginny's head made her duck and cover, and she felt a pressure on her kneecaps. When she uncovered her eyes, she saw Hibby was pushing against her for all she was worth. "I'm going, you bastard," she said, more for Draco's benefit than Hibby's. Just before she was removed from the room, she caught a glimpse of him rummaging purposefully through his nightstand cabinet.

"Oh, you is a _bad_ Miss!" Hibby hissed as she shoved Ginny down the hallway. "You is supposed to _help_!"

"Cram it, elf!" Ginny growled, trying to outpace her tiny warden. "No one asked your worthless opinion."

Hibby scowled but did not reply.

_He didn't know,_ she thought incredulously as she descended the stairs. _He truly didn't know. How is that even possible? Is he that stupid?_ It occurred to her that he could've been under some profound denial that was only coming undone now that he was dreaming properly again. Now she was out of his inflammatory influence, she was beginning to feel the first pangs of dull remorse. She probably shouldn't have said the things she did, she decided as she crossed the receiving salon to the fireplace. She should've explained to him that she didn't care anymore about the horrible things he'd done to her, hoping that he'd see how she'd put all of it behind her and follow suit. Sure, it still scared her that a random whim had stood between her finding out about his prison confession in a timely manner and the Order not knowing of his capitulation until it was too late. It was the past, though.

The truth finally struck her as she was whirling through the Floo Network: _I'm friends with Draco Malfoy_. She'd never consciously thought that before. It was always masked as _Draco thinks we're friends_ or _Draco would feel better if I pretended I was his friend _or _Draco doesn't have anyone else so I should help him_ or some other tangential notion that never really got to the crux of the matter. _I WAS friends with Draco Malfoy_, she amended, thinking of his unyielding fury, and she felt both better and worse.

By the time she stumbled back into The Burrow she was certain that Draco had taken more Dreamless Sleep and that she had failed him even there. She was so engrossed in thought she almost didn't notice that the living room wasn't empty. "Where," Ron growled from the chesterfield, "the bloody _hell_ have you been?"


	5. Antivenin

**Chapter Five: Antivenin**

"Where was I?" Ginny asked innocently, brushing an errant bit of ash from the Floo off her robes. "I was at Luna's." She was quite certain she wouldn't get much sympathy if she told him she'd just bollocksed up a friendship with his enemy and felt awful about it.

Ron remained seated on the chesterfield, his head propped up by his single arm. "Luna's on the continent with her father chasing imaginary animals."

"No, she just got back," Ginny lied, delving straight into the contingency plan she'd worked out earlier. "I was getting ready for bed when her owl arrived and I Flooed right over." She fervently hoped that Draco had decided to appeal to Parkinson again instead of taking potions.

"It's three o'clock in the damned morning, Ginny, and you didn't even leave a note."

The house-elf had no sway over him, she'd said so herself. "And I would've been there until morning, but we had a row so I left." She could try to appeal to Parkinson herself, she supposed, but the owl wouldn't reach her until it was too late and there was no way she was showing up on the nasty bint's doorstep.

"Yeah?"

"I guess I can only take so much of her Crumple-Horned Snorkack talk. I made a smart crack about how it's too bad they're not in Egypt instead of Finland because it would make for much warmer holidays." It was likely too late to do anything in any case. _Heaven help me, I was friends with Draco Malfoy!_

"When she starts going on about all that nutty stuff, you've just got to let her talk," Ron said sympathetically, and Ginny saw that she'd distracted him sufficiently to soften him. "Believe me, I've watched people try everything else."

"We were both just tired, I guess. Why are you up?" she asked, hoping to keep him off-balance so he wouldn't notice her own distraction.

Ron sighed heavily and motioned for her to sit beside him. "Hermione came to see me tonight."

"I know." _You're the best friend I could ask for_, he'd told her when he was in prison, but he'd been starved for attention…hadn't he?

"She said she's not going to be coming back any more."

"Well, she's got to get back to school." _I thought I'd never see you again_ was all he could say when he'd returned from the dead, and she'd been so glad to see him. His blood in the snow. Her throwing up at the sight – had part of her known even back then that the friendship was real?

Ron sighed again, seeming reluctant to continue. "Ginny, you've been through some bad times before. Your first year, like." He had her full attention now. "Stuff lately, too. And you…well…so I guess what I really want to ask is I think I need help." She wasn't sure how that was a question. "Maybe that whole tutor idea of Dad's isn't so bad. After all, it's not like I'm daft or something, I just need help re-training myself," he said, with a pragmatic expression he must've stolen from Hermione along with the words. "I just don't know how we'd be able to afford-"

"Oh, Ron! We'll find a way!" Ginny cried, her entire psyche swelling with hope. "And it won't be for that long, anyways!"

"I dunno, it still seems kind of stupid. I mean, you didn't need any kind of help."

"I think I did, actually. It's too late for anything professional now, but I probably would've been better off in the long run. In any case, I had help from you guys. I don't know how I would've made it through after my first year without my family." _And we'll bring you and George through too_, she added mentally.

Ron considered this. "Percy's been spending a lot of time with George, yeah?"

She nodded.

"Watch this," he said, drawing his wand awkwardly. He pointed it at a book on the coffee table. "_Wingardium leviosa_!" The text trembled but didn't rise. As far as Ginny knew, it was the first time he'd tried to do magic in front of anyone since the battle.

Ginny gave him a shaky smile, trying to hide her dismay at this display of how completely he'd been handicapped. "Well, that's something, isn't it? You're halfway there!"

"Yeah, halfway to being a first-year. Guess Auror training is out for me." It sounded like he was trying to joke about it, but the glum expression on his face made the whole endeavour fall flat.

"You've still got eight months before you go back to school, and a year of school to complete before you can even think about it," Ginny reminded him. "And you don't have to go in straight out of school, either."

"I guess."

"Well, think about this: things can only get better from here, right?" she said, hoping desperately that it was true.

"Let's hope so," he muttered, but the corners of his mouth were quirking upwards. "I wish you'd been around earlier, Ginny. I must've just missed you when you left, and I've been sitting here thinking about what the right thing to do is and I knew you'd be able to help. I should've talked to Hermione about it, but…I dunno. She left pretty quick when I wouldn't say anything. D'you think it would be okay if I owled her later? Once I figured out what I'm going to do, I mean? Or would that just make her angry?"

He was so damned oblivious, but at least he wasn't mad at Hermione anymore. "I think she'd like that," Ginny said gently.

Ron nodded silently. "We should really get to bed."

"Agreed," she said, rising from the chesterfield even though she was sure she wouldn't be getting much rest at all. _Maybe I should've nicked some of Draco's Dreamless Sleep_.

Before she could turn towards the stairs, Ron pulled her into a hug. "Thanks for your help, Ginny."

"Hey, what are sisters for?" she said lightheartedly, but she held him tightly and wished for all sorts of reasons that his one-armed hug was two-armed instead, and cursed herself all over again.

* * *

Predictably, the Weasleys sprung into action when Ron finally admitted he needed help. Molly, especially, was galvanized at the prospect of actively helping, and combed through all the tutoring information Arthur brought home in addition to taking back the kitchen (because recovering war heroes need lots of food). Percy urged Ron to attempt every spell he could think of and meticulously recorded the results of each one, explaining that it could be used both to debrief Ron's helper and to chart his progress. Even George started acting a bit more normal, meaning that he began interacting with others willingly as a normal person might, but he still wasn't like George at all. He told no jokes and played no pranks, and Ginny couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed. 

Ginny returned to Hogwarts eager to fill her days with people to talk to and things to do to take her mind off of things that couldn't be changed. Then, on her first morning back, a small owl dropped a posy of vibrantly-coloured purple flowers on her desk with an unsigned note. _I didn't mean it_, read the angular script on the thick parchment. _I forgive you_.

She supposed it was as close to an apology as she'd ever get and immediately went back upstairs to compose a reply.

* * *

A/N: And then Draco invites her to the Quidditch World Cup! Really! That story's in the queue. A big thanks to my slow-burning cold that let me stay home from work to finish this and to the readers and reviewers, of course. 


End file.
